Wake Up and Smell the Coffee
by FWandFS
Summary: Sequel to Sawdust and Gunpowder.  Boundaries get crossed and bridges get burned.   Will Abby and Gibbs ever get on the same page?
1. Rule 27

NCIS and all of its wonderful characters – no they don't belong to me. Sigh, they never will. Some of them do belong to each other, though, don't you agree?

**Wake Up and Smell the Coffee (sequel to Sawdust and Gunpowder)** – Boundaries get crossed and bridges get burned. Will Abby and Gibbs ever get on the same page?

Seriously, this sequel will not make much sense unless you read the original story (Sawdust and Gunpowder).

Rating – T for now – soon will be M. Not for kiddos. Really.

FWandFS (Fair Winds and Following Seas): Second Fanfic in this Fandom. Have written others as FeliciaMaplewood for Scarecrow and Mrs. King…Yes, I am dating myself by admitting that.

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><p>Chapter 1 <strong>Rule 27<strong>

A low wolf whistle cut through the tension in the room as Gibbs was patted down for arms. "She's a hot piece, old man. Nice goin', I bet she really…"the thug's voice dwindled off as he caught a chill stare from steely blue eyes. The old man looked like he'd use his guts for garters if he didn't shut up.

Abby pretended not to hear as she looked out the arched palladian window over the well groomed gardens below. At the end of the long gravel drive, she could see the steel gates and the guardhouse. Somewhere beyond that, she knew, Ziva and Tony were watching out for them. She pulled Gibbs leather jacket tighter around her, as if chilled. Normally it would have been Ziva in her place, but the other agents were known quantities now. Somehow Tony had persuaded Gibbs that she would be ideal for this mission. She only hoped she could carry it off.

"Paulie, show some respect!" His boss berated him. Mikhail Ostepenchevko was too well-groomed as if he were trying to live down his roots. The tailored suit and oppressive cologne couldn't counteract the scar down one cheek and the merciless eyes. No matter how you dressed him, Mikhail was a thug. A killer for hire, he was their prime suspect in the murders of Petty Officer Curtis, and four former residents of the estate they were visiting.

"Sorry, Mr. Campanula, Paulie's got no class." Mikhail clapped Gibbs on the arm using the name Gibbs had given for this undercover op. Gibson Domenico Campanula had a rap sheet with impressive hits of his own. A gun for hire down south who had a taste for bourbon, fast cars and younger women, he was just the kind of man to fit in on this estate. There were BOLO's out on him all over Tennessee and Georgia, courtesy of McGee planting them. For all intents and purposes, Gibbs looked every inch the assassin they had created back at NCIS.

"He's clean." Paulie told his boss. He continued to eye Abby up and down, but with more discretion. Paulie had more muscle than brainpower and took the opportunity to try and display it by breathing deeply to emphasize his defined pectorals. "So do I do her next?" he asked a shade too eagerly.

Showtime. Abby turned around and deliberately eased the coat off her shoulders as if unwrapping a present. She held the coat out at arms-length and Gibbs took it from her, biting back his own smile. Abby had a taste for drama and was in her element. "Sure thing, boys," she said in husky drawl. "I got nothin' to hide." Her lips tugged in a long, slow smile as she sashayed towards them in her black leather ankle boots. Her black catsuit clung to her lithe form in all the right places. Her red lips and nails made her look like a cat on the prowl. She was sex on a slow burn and both Mikhail and Paulie couldn't take their eyes off her. Abby held out her arms and said "Where do you want me?"

Mikhail might have said 'over my desk', but he swallowed hard and said "Right there is fine, honey. It's just a formality." He laughed in an oily fashion. "Can't be hiding much in that outfit, huh?" He made sure it was his hands running down her sides and thighs rather than Paulie. It was a perk of being the boss.

Abby managed to suppress a shudder of revulsion. "I feel safer already." She made lingering eye contact with Paulie as he watched her as if to let him know he had a chance, if only her protector weren't there. That's what this estate was, after all, a safe house for the mistresses of the mob. At least, it was there for those who could pay the premium price.

Gibbs felt his hackles rise watching the hit-man run his wandering hands over Abby. But his suppressed rage and possessiveness only made their cover look more authentic. Why would Gibson Domenico Campanula put up with anyone feeling up his property? "That's enough!" He growled.

Mikhail oozed a smile. "Yeah, she's clean. Can't be too careful, you understand. We gotta protect what's ours here."

Abby bit inside her lip until she drew blood not to protest women being thought of as property. These men were disgusting.

Gibbs shrugged. "Hey, we don't have a lot of time. Do we get the 5 cent tour or what?"

Mikhail looked at his watch, he was clearly rushed for time himself. "This place sells itself, Mr. Campanula. Here's a key to suite 230. Walk around the grounds take all the time you need. The safety and privacy you get here you can't get anywhere else." He continued in a warning tone, "You'll want to really think about your decision, though. I got someone coming for another tour at 4:00 this afternoon."

Abby let her hips swing in an ageless female invitation as she approached Gibbs without breaking eye contact. "I'm ready, hon. Aren't you?" Her voice was raspy and a bit urgent. None of the men there missed the double entendre.

Gibbs only smiled and lifted an eyebrow in wordless response. He hauled her to his side and cocked his head addressing the two men and lifted the room key, "'Later."

Paulie watched the two walking down the hallway in impossibly close proximity to each other as she reached up to whisper in his ear and his husky laugh echoed back. "Lucky bastard," he muttered.

* * *

><p>"Good work, Abbs." Gibbs kissed her temple in appreciation after they had rounded two corners.<p>

Abby shot him a glance that spoke of her delayed panic and fear. "I thought they'd find it for certain. There was no way I actually thought that was going to work."

"Rule 27, Abbs – modified. There are two ways to hide something. Make sure they don't notice you, or make sure they only notice you. And trust me, once they saw you in that catsuit, they were not going to be looking in my jacket pocket for a revolver."

Her breath shuddered out. "It was still a risk. I mean you would _never_ have been distracted by a ruse like that, but well, you know….you're Gibbs and they're not."

He shook his head before running his eyes down her from top to bottom. "Don't sell yourself short, Abbs. I'm only a man." His eyes carried heat that showed her just what her outfit did to him.

Her face lit in a delighted smile. "I think I know what I'm wearing every day to work now."

Gibbs laughed and groaned lightly, "Not if any man in the building is going to get any work done."

"There's only one man I'm wearing it for," she rejoined with teasing warmth.

Gibbs felt a shot of arousal at her suggestion. She couldn't have meant what she just said. Could she?

He cleared his throat before giving her a wry smile. He headed down the hallway to suite 234 and quickly picked the lock with a lockpick he had stowed in his shirt collar.

Abby nearly stamped her foot in frustration at another almost-moment with Gibbs. She should focus on the mission, just like him. But it was hard, she had to admit as he leaned over to be eye level with the lock. The man had a mighty fine ass in a pair of jeans. Abby sighed. This wasn't the time or the place.

Gibbs eased the door open quietly and they slipped in. Suite 234 was where two of the women had lived at different times in the months prior to the murders. Suite 230 was the other one.

"What do we do now?" She asked as Gibbs prowled the room purposefully.

"You stay by the door. Listen for anyone in the hallways. They could be looking for us." Gibbs responded.

She snorted. "They probably think we're in Suite 230 doing the horizontal foxtrot."

Gibbs raised his eyebrow. "Foxtrot, Abbs? You seem like a samba woman to me."

She tilted her head consideringly. "You've given this more thought than I have." She looked him up and down appreciatively in a way that raised his blood pressure. "Hmm. Definitely a tango man, I'd have to say."

His lips twitched. "Whatever works." He shook his head and tried to focus. "Door, Abbs." Gibbs ordered as he opened the dresser drawers searching for false bottoms, papers, anything that would reveal something about one of the prior inhabitants.

Abby stuck her tongue out at his back. "Spoilsport," she muttered.

Still, a smile lingered as she took up her post. Flirting with Gibbs in a bedroom had to be the highlight of their relationship to date. At any rate, it was progress!

TBC

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	2. Rule 18

NCIS and all of its wonderful characters – no they don't belong to me. Sigh, they never will. Some of them do belong to each other, though, don't you agree?

**Wake Up and Smell the Coffee (sequel to Sawdust and Gunpowder)** – Boundaries get crossed and bridges get burned. Will Abby and Gibbs ever get on the same page?

Rating – M. Not for kiddos. Really.

FWandFS (Fair Winds and Following Seas): Second Fanfic in this Fandom. Have written others as FeliciaMaplewood for Scarecrow and Mrs. King…Yes, I am dating myself by admitting that.

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><p>Chapter 2 –<p>

**Rule 18**

"Gibbs!" Abby's hushed voiced carried panicked alarm.

He spun to see her signing frantically "What now? They're coming!"

He heard the voices outside the door. There was no exit that wouldn't leave a telltale sign. He rushed to Abby and forcibly grabbed her arm, dragging her into the closet and pulling the door closed with only a slight gap to see the intruders. He yanked Abby flush against him toward the back of the closet. Damn, there was no way now that he could move in front of her without telltale noise, there simply wasn't enough room. He loosened his hold with his left arm, resting his hand on her hip and eased his service revolver out on his right to protect her. God willing, he wouldn't need it.

The suite door banged open and they could hear grunting and the frantic rustling of clothes being removed, not to mention the sound of wet kisses. In the blur of movement passing the closet, Gibbs could see a stripped bleach blonde in do-me pumps wrapped around their half-dressed hit man, Mikhail.

"We gotta hurry," the man growled. "My wife's in the spa downstairs."

"Hey! You gonna fuck me, don't be talkin' 'bout the wife." The woman snapped.

They heard the smack of an open hand on bare flesh. "Ow! Mickey!"

Gibbs felt Abby start in surprise and breathed a hushed "Easy, Abbs" in her ear. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, despite the feeling of comparative safety and privacy in their dark hideout. And, as always, it heightened his senses. He could feel each of Abby's shallow breaths, the heat that radiated from her body so close to his, and the dangerous smell of her perfume.

"On your knees, Tanya." Mikhail barked.

Damn, thought Gibbs. That was a visual he could have done without when wrapped in the dark with Abby pressed up against him. But it didn't last long as this couple was in a hurry and the preliminaries were short before moving onto the main event.

Abby felt a flush rise in her cheeks and across her chest. Hinky didn't begin to describe this situation. In her many fantasies of being with Gibbs, voyeurism hadn't yet entered the mix. Abby started to ease forward to prevent herself from crushing Gibbs, until she felt his hand bite into her left hip. Hmph. Guess she wasn't going anywhere, not that there was much space to move. Despite the danger, she felt safe as she always did when Gibbs arms were wrapped around her. Well, safe from everything but her attraction to him, anyway.

Gibbs snorted and his eyes rolled up to the ceiling as he heard the moans and grunts and rhythmic thumping of the headboard. This was so _not_ what he needed right now. He willed his body not to react to Abby's slim frame nestled between his legs. Given the context, it was a lost cause. He always curtailed any fantasies of Abby when he was awake through sheer force of discipline, but when he was asleep his subconscious played havoc with him. While sometimes those dreams were lingering and languorous, more often they were hard, fast, and driving – up against a wall, over a desk, and now he'd have a new one, in the back of a closet.

Abby felt the biting pressure of Gibbs hand on her hip and knew he was just as affected as she was. If the short, harsh breaths on the back of her neck weren't a clue, she knew what was pressing into her backside wasn't his badge. He _wanted_ her. Abby felt heat swamp her and squirmed. Now that she finally knew she wasn't the only one, she couldn't think of anything else but the breadth of the wall of his chest behind her and the corded steel of his legs. Her breasts ached for his touch - if only he would move his hand upwards from her hip. She arched her back in unconscious invitation with a breathy moan only he could hear.

That moan was his undoing, Gibbs quietly growled into her neck in response. His lips only a hairsbreadth away from her spiderweb tattoo, made so available by her arched neck. Thoughts fled and only primal need ruled. His face contorted in a mask of suppressed desire as he felt her grind her ass back against him. Reflexively, his hips drove of their own accord against her. He heard Abby's muffled response and grew even harder. The sudden ache of lust was blinding. And Abby, willing and wanton pressing back into him only made the fire hotter.

The couple on the bed didn't have their chemistry, though. They were already done, the woman whining that Mikhail hadn't held on long enough for her. They heard the sound of him slapping her ass again as he ordered her to get dressed. He didn't want to keep the wife waiting and he sure as hell didn't want the wife meeting the mistress. The clandestine couple focused on the hustle of cleaning up and getting back down to the spa, as quickly as they had arrived, they were gone.

As soon as the hallway door shut, Abby let out a ragged moan. She spun in Gibbs arms to face him as he distractedly replaced the revolver in his jacket pocket. She placed each of her hands on the closet wall framing his head before leaning into him, her cleft pressing against his bulge and her aching breasts seeking relief by brushing his chest. "That was the hottest thing I've ever done." She whispered lowly in his ear.

Gibbs eyes shut as he fought his desire. "We didn't _do_ anything, Abbs."

"I know," she whispered. "That's what made it _so hot_. We couldn't do anything." She twisted sinuously against him as he groaned. "We couldn't get caught. And just being there - it was just _so wrong._" She smiled against his neck. "And doing stuff that's wrong always gets me hot."

Gibbs didn't respond, his eyes remained shut as he desperately tried to hold onto rationality. But he didn't push her away either and his fingers dug tightly into her hips as she ground against him. His harsh breaths exploded in the small closet.

Abby threw caution to winds and wrapped her arms around his neck and angled her mouth hotly over his in an open-mouthed kiss.

His control snapped, as he grabbed her ass and pulled her tightly against him. They dueled for control of the kiss, as a dam of desire broke over them. Gibbs more than met her halfway, his kisses were voracious. She moaned as she felt him tugging her lower lip between his teeth. His tongue swept hungrily against the cavern of her mouth, and she sagged against him with overwhelming want. When fully roused, Gibbs was no gentle lover but a hungry alpha male. Abby was more than a match for him. He groaned aloud as she rubbed against him. She was a dark fantasy come to life. He broke the kiss, raggedly catching his breath as he firmly held her hips from teasing him further. Anymore and he would explode.

She panted against his neck, but the soft mewling sound she made shot straight to his core. He dropped his head against her shoulder fighting for a semblance of control. "Whoa, Abby," he rasped. Gibbs drew in long shuddering breaths and tried like hell not to focus on the bliss that accompanied her hips snug against his.

Man alive, that was hotter than Abby had thought it would ever be. And she had thought about this – a lot. She felt sublime with a unique women's power that she could bring Gibbs, him of all people, to into this vortex of spiraling need. With aching want, she pressed into the bulge that could complete her. She loved the low, sexy groan that she wrested from him.

"Abbs, you're not helping things here." Gibbs growled in her ear.

"Who said I wanted you to stop?" Abby whispered back and he shivered as her tongue traced his ear. Her words brought another jolt of sharp need, and his fingers dug into her hip deeply enough to leave bruises. Was Abby flirting, as usual, or did she mean it?

"Case…Abby. We're on a case." Gibbs took in deep draughts of air as he slowly regained control. He pushed the door of the closet open behind her. If he stayed in those close quarters, he couldn't be responsible for his actions much longer.

She eased away reluctantly and withdrew from the closet. She felt suddenly cold without his pressing warmth. "Sorry, I guess I got distracted," she said with a cheeky smile. But she paused once again as his eyes snapped open and she saw his eyes darkened with need. Her breath hitched. He wanted her – he really wanted her. It was taking everything he had not to screw her against the wall and she knew it. And Leroy Jethro Gibbs aroused was a helluva sexy sight.

He stepped out of the closet holding her gaze. He cupped her cheek and as he ran his thumb over her lower lip she shivered. "Yeah. Me too." How the hell was he supposed to work when she looked at him like that? How was he ever going to go into the lab and not remember this moment? They had always had a flirty tension, but now her eyes looked like a wildcat's. And he would just love to be her prey.

She blushed and looked down, suddenly self-conscious now that they were out of the closet and in the light. The live-action porn film certainly had helped get things rolling, but they had just crashed and burned through all the barriers they had ever erected between them. Before Gibbs freaked out, she needed to come up with a recovery plan and fast.

Suddenly saucy, she looked up at him. "Just doing more research, Gibbs."

He raised an eyebrow in inquiry, thankful that she knew what to say because he sure as hell didn't. His brain wasn't functioning much at all yet. "Research, again, Abbs?"

"Mm-hmm…_applied research_,"she said flirtatiously.

He waited warily, and ran his hand through his hair if only to prevent his hands from hauling her against him again.

"Rule eighteen," she purred referring to her kiss. "It's better to seek forgiveness than ask permission."

His lips quirked up in a half-smile, hearing his own words used against him. "Nothing to forgive, Abbs." He eased away from her, feeling both relieved and yet unsettled by her nonchalance. Her 'research' had rocked his world.

"I'll keep that in mind." Abby's voice held a sultry promise. She smiled in satisfaction. The playing field had been entirely changed and she couldn't be happier.

TBC

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><p>Reviews make my day! Please let me know what you think!<p>

Thanks so much to Periodically Chlorinated, The Gabby Effect, miss4nschik, punkcatwitissues, gosgirl, ncislove, Alrighta, and tanya2byour21 for taking the time to review!


	3. Kisses sweeter than wine

NCIS and all of its wonderful characters – no they don't belong to me. Sigh, they never will. Some of them do belong to each other, though, don't you agree?

**Wake Up and Smell the Coffee (sequel to Sawdust and Gunpowder)** – Boundaries get crossed and bridges get burned. Will Abby and Gibbs ever get on the same page?

Rating – M. Not for kiddos. Really.

FWandFS (Fair Winds and Following Seas): Second Fanfic in this Fandom. Have written others as FeliciaMaplewood for Scarecrow and Mrs. King…Yes, I am dating myself by admitting that.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3 – Kisses sweeter than wine<strong>

"There's a camera every thirty yards." Abby noted under her breath.

To all intents and purposes, they looked like a lovesick couple as they scanned the grounds with care. They ambled slowly, their steps in synchrony and their bodies close. They had decided to expand their search after Gibbs had found scant evidence in their clandestine searches of both the suites. However, Abby had managed to get ample sampling of Mikhail Ostepenchevko's DNA courtesy of his romp in the sheets with his mistress.

Abby looked intently at the surrounding flora as they walked the shady, well-tended paths.

"Whatcha got, Abbs?" Gibbs murmured, recognizing the signs that Abby was having a brainstorm.

"Azaleas." She whispered back. "There were crushed azalea leaves in the second victim's sneaker treads."

"Take some with us – try for a match?" Gibbs replied.

"My thoughts exactly!" She smiled as she pulled away laughingly from him. She ran ahead and darted behind a tree, peeking around the side as if teasing him. As he approached her, she scooped up a handful of fallen azalea leaves from the bushes around them and tossed them over him, showering him with nature's confetti.

She laughed and started to dart away, but Gibbs swiftly caught her around the waist swinging her in a playful circle. Abby reached up and tenderly pulled errant leaves from his hair as he smiled bemusedly down at her. Blocked from the cameras, she slipped them into his jacket pocket for later analysis. Linking her arm in his, she leaned towards him confidingly as they walked along the path.

"We're being watched, Gibbs."

"Well, Yeah, Abbs. That's kind of the point," he replied wryly.

"Well, this time it's that oversized Neanderthal from the guardhouse by the gate. He doesn't look as stupid as Paulie...he looks suspicious." Abby had begun to talk more rapidly as she became anxious.

"Relax, Abby."

"What if he doesn't think we're for real? What if he calls Mikhail?" Her eyes widened in alarm. "If Tony and Ziva are supposed to be giving us backup, I haven't seen any sign of it." She bit her lip in concern.

"You're not supposed to see them," he said calmly. "We'll just remind the audience why we're here, O.K.?"

He eased her back against the trunk of a tall magnolia, resting his hands against the spreading trunk on either side of her, even though his hands itched to run the length of her svelte form. Gibbs leaned in and ran gentle kisses along her temple and cheekbone, slowly easing down to her lips which parted of their own accord. His kiss was as lazy and exploratory as it had been urgent earlier.

Her lips clung to his as she gave herself up to the sweetness of his kiss. This was what it meant to feel cherished. Her head fell back in silent yearning, exposing her long graceful neck for his exploration. She shivered as she felt the feathering of kisses across her spider web tattoo. Her hands slid up his back under his jacket, relishing the sinewy strength she found there. He was so warm to the touch. Gibbs was always so calm, you would think he would run cold-blooded, but he was every inch a red-blooded American male. Her eyes fluttered closed and she didn't notice when the guard had turned away satisfied that they were exactly as they had presented themselves on arrival.

"You should come with a warning label." Abby murmured playfully, opening her eyes languorously. Her eyes were smoky and the fear in them had been completely erased.

Gibbs smile split the difference between being somewhat abashed and boyishly cocky. He knew that eventually he would have to pay the piper for the boundaries they had crossed, but he couldn't bear to think of that when she was warm and willing in the circle of his arms. He felt more alive than he had in years.

He leaned in to kiss her one last time, tracing the seam of her lips with his tongue as she moaned softly. He loved that she didn't control the sounds of her desire. There was nothing so arousing as Abby in uncontrolled heat. If he had only minutes left to live this fantasy, he might as well make the most of it.

Gibbs pulled reluctantly away and slipped his arm around her waist as they walked back along the paths to the main house of the estate. They had found all they could for the case, at least for the moment.

* * *

><p>"Whoa!" Tony gaped as he watched his Team mates through binoculars. "Boss got game!"<p>

"You can see them?" Ziva said sharply, reaching across from the driver's seat for the binoculars as Tony batted her hands away. She had been edgy when Gibbs and Abby had been out of sight so long. They had taken a significant risk sending in Abby who was untrained for this kind of work. They simply had to bank on that unstated connection that everyone knew she and Gibbs shared.

"I take it back, Ziva. Boss does bounce!" Tony said in a surprised voice, noting the slightly cocky spring in Gibbs step as he chased Abby through the azaleas. He sucked in a surprised breath as he saw them lean up against the tree. It looked for all the world like the boss was trying to seduce their forensic scientist. From the way Abby was responding, it wouldn't take much effort on his part either. Tony grimaced. It always galled him that women drew like moths to a flame towards the senior agent, despite his age.

"Give me that!" Ziva yanked the binoculars from his grasp and gazed through them. She remained silent, her thoughts only given away by her carefully pursed lips.

"Either Abby gets an Academy Award or she has a thing for older men," Tony groused.

Ziva gave him a knowing sideways glance. "Older men can be very…intriguing" she murmured. "A woman can benefit from their – how would you say – experience."

"You've thought about the Bossman?" Tony was mildly appalled. Did Gibb hold thrall over all the women he knew? Just what was it about his silver hair that made them all tingly inside anyway?

Ziva shrugged. "I speak hypothetically, of course."

Tony glanced at her warily. He never quite knew the former Mossad agent's thoughts. "You think Abby's his favorite in more way than one?" he asked.

Ziva's voice was soft in her response. "I think they look very…" she paused as she searched for the right word, "sweet." Somehow she couldn't find the words to describe the yearning she had seen in both of their faces. It was bittersweet, like a war time romance that you knew would have a sad ending. She lowered the binoculars, conscious of having intruded on a very private moment.

If Tony concurred, he wouldn't admit it. "Sweet?" he snorted. "Bossman would love that." He derided. He grabbed the binoculars back from her. "Looks like they're headed back. Wonder how much longer they'll be."

Ziva nodded thoughtfully, still processing the private moment she had witnessed. If she wasn't mistaken, things would be very different back at headquarters. And Ziva was rarely wrong.

TBC

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><p>Reviews make my day! Please let me know what you think!<p>

Thanks so much to Periodically Chlorinated, The Gabby Effect, miss4nschik, punkcatwitissues, gosgirl, ncislove, Alrighta, tanya2byour21, Ziver69, louise1717, and ascifigirl for taking the time to review!


	4. Paying the piper

NCIS and all of its wonderful characters – no they don't belong to me. Sigh, they never will. Some of them do belong to each other, though, don't you agree?

**Wake Up and Smell the Coffee (sequel to Sawdust and Gunpowder)** – Boundaries get crossed and bridges get burned. Will Abby and Gibbs ever get on the same page?

Rating – M. Not for kiddos. Really.

FWandFS (Fair Winds and Following Seas): Second Fanfic in this Fandom. Have written others as FeliciaMaplewood for Scarecrow and Mrs. King…Yes, I am dating myself by admitting that.

* * *

><p>Chapter 4 <strong>Paying the Piper<strong>

Gibbs felt his stomach clench and his chest tighten as he walked Abby to her door. She continued to prattle on excitedly, happily proud that they had pulled off their undercover assignment. So much had changed in the past few hours, boundaries were crossed and bridges burned. He couldn't believe the explosive chemistry between them. He could still feel the electric current from her just standing close to him.

Damn. He really screwed the pooch this time.

How the hell was he going to reset the clock to yesterday? Because he had to. No matter what happened back at that complex, they had to leave it there. Rule 12. He knew better. What the fuck had he been thinking?

If he had been quiet, Abby hadn't noticed. Gibbs was always quiet. She turned the key in the lock and pulled him into her apartment with a husky laugh. Pushing the door shut, she backed him up against the dark violet wall. Abby then twined her arms behind his neck and whispered in his ear, "So…coffee, tea or me?" She gently bit his earlobe.

"Abby…" Gibbs pulled down gently on her forearms, leaning his head back. His heart rate had begun to quicken just from her nearness. She was too much temptation.

"Mm-hmm?" She murmured silkily as she traced the corded length of his neck with her lips, pressing a kiss at the hollow of his throat.

"Abbs!" He said sternly. He needed her to stop. Now. Before he forgot why.

She pulled back her head, startled at his tone. Her green eyes met his in confusion. She let her hands fall as they rested uncertainly on his chest.

"Gibbs?" Her voice cracked.

"You need to stop." His voice was firm and his jaw clenched.

She pulled away altogether and wrapped her arms around her waist, but remained just a step away, still within his arm's reach. She looked so wounded, it took all he had not to pull her back into his arms to reassure her. It was all his fault, after all.

"What the hell, Gibbs?" she whispered. Her mouth looked vulnerable.

He swallowed hard. It was time to pay the piper and this was not going to be easy. "We gotta talk, Abbs."

Abby's laugh was brittle. "Leroy Jethro Gibbs wants to talk? This can't be good." She backed away and turned away from him crossing her living room.

The room was like her, eclectic and comfortable, striking and yet calming. Modern funk mixed with pieces of Victorian architectural salvage in an oddly cohesive harmony. He watched her sink onto her velvet settee still keeping her arms wrapped around her. Her gaze fixated on a design on the worn Oriental rug that covered the floor. He scanned the room with its countless photos in their antique frames, buying time to find the right words to say. Words weren't his forte.

He sighed, "It was a mistake. I shouldn't have involved you in this."

Her forehead furrowed in confusion. "Why? You think they didn't believe us?"

"No. They bought the act alright." Gibbs rubbed his hand behind his neck. He couldn't find the words he needed to save himself.

"I wasn't acting." She whispered and shrugged, "I'm not built that way. I can't lie. You know that."

He did. Abby had a face like an open book. Perhaps she could play poker, but when it came to her heart, it was always on her sleeve.

She read more into his prolonged silence than he intended. Her face was averted when she said in a low voice, "But for you, it was just an act. Is that it?"

Gibbs stared at her from across the room, berating himself for being the cause of her hurt. She was shattered by the belief that he had faked interest in her. But how could he tell her truth and then work with her every day? She was young enough to be his daughter for God's sake – he never should have entertained the kind of thoughts about her that he'd been having all day. He felt frustrated rage within himself that he had allowed this to happen.

He watched as she processed her thoughts chewing on her lower lip. She, too, was moving from hurt to anger.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Abby accused him.

"We were being watched. We were on a job." His rationale was cool and succinct.

"Not in the closet we weren't." She countered with her eyes narrowed.

He looked away, and felt his cheeks flush darkly.

"Well?" She prodded at his continued silence.

"What do you want me to say, Abbs?" Gibbs lashed out in frustration with more than a little shame. "It's been a while."

Abby paled. "So I'm just another warm body to you?" She snapped.

His eyes glittered as they met hers, meeting anger with anger. "No. Most women I meet don't grind up against me in the dark."

Abby flinched as if she had been struck. "What – you think I pop my cork for any guy I see, is that it, Gibbs?" Her voice shook slightly in outrage. How dared he imply she was promiscuous? Anger gave her courage, even if it was only temporary. She shot up from the sofa and crossed the room swiftly, facing him with her hands on her hips.

Gibbs didn't reply. It was better to see her angry than hurt in any case. God knows he deserved it.

She held him accountable with her emerald gaze. "Look me in the eye and tell me it was all an act for you."

His eyes held steady. "It was a job, Abigail." His voice sounded hollow, even to his own ears. His jaw clenched as he lied to her.

"Get out." She whispered as she turned her back and headed towards her kitchen. She never looked over her shoulder to acknowledge him. She only knew he complied when she heard the click of the door behind him. Her breath shuddered out in disbelief.

Miserably, she pulled open the door to the freezer and grabbed a spoon. Ben and Jerry would be her only male companions tonight. Damn Gibbs to hell.

* * *

><p>TBC<p>

Your reviews make me write faster! Please let me know what you thought!


	5. Each man kills the thing he loves

NCIS and all of its wonderful characters – no they don't belong to me. Sigh, they never will. Some of them do belong to each other, though, don't you agree?

**Wake Up and Smell the Coffee (sequel to Sawdust and Gunpowder)** – Boundaries get crossed and bridges get burned. Will Abby and Gibbs ever get on the same page?

Rating – M. Not for kiddos. Really.

FWandFS (Fair Winds and Following Seas): Second Fanfic in this Fandom. Have written others as FeliciaMaplewood for Scarecrow and Mrs. King…Yes, I am dating myself by admitting that.

* * *

><p>Chapter 5 <strong>Each man kills the thing he loves<strong>

'Sonofabitch,' he thought to himself.

Gibbs could feel the dull throb at his temples from a headache he just couldn't shake as he rubbed his forehead wearily. He was running on caffeine and inborn grit. He had hardly slept last night…or the night before…or even the night before that. The fact was he didn't like himself much since the night he left Abby's apartment. It seemed that the rest of his team agreed with that assessment.

The tension from his team members was palpable and their unusual quiet actually had begun to grate on his nerves. He could feel Ziva's periodic sidelong glance on the back of his neck, even if he never looked up to acknowledge it. Her measured, analytical gaze had found him somewhat wanting though she never said a word. Tony had simply been snide, with his vocal tone always hovering at rank disrespect. He never shut a desk drawer if he could slam it. Subtlety was not his strong suit.

But it was McGee's icy professionalism that twisted the knife of guilt in his guts. Without a word of rebuke, he made it amply clear that he was royally pissed off with his boss. Their roles had been relatively reversed and for once Gibbs had trouble meeting his junior's cool direct gaze. Abby certainly had a loyal following.

It made it damn hard to concentrate. And if they ever needed to work as a team, they needed to now. God knew, he didn't want another girl showing up on Ducky's autopsy table.

"Dinozzo! Any reports back on Ostepenchevko's BOLO?" his voice rasped with fatigue and his tone was sharper than it needed to be. The hit man had dropped out of sight just as they finally had enough forensic evidence to bring him in.

"Uh-uh." Tony didn't elaborate. A terse Tony was a rare thing indeed.

Crap. That meant the only lead he had next to chase down would be in the lab. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing that he would rather they face Abby than him. He set his jaw and mustered the will to head downstairs, full well knowing that three sets of eyes followed him in judgment as he headed to the elevators. He'd better get a Caf-Pow first.

* * *

><p>It was silent in the lab.<p>

Well, not quite silent as the machines whirred and beeped in an odd synchrony of science. Certainly, it didn't resemble the lab as he had come to know it over the past decade. There was no blaring music and no happy patter to greet him either.

If Abby knew he had arrived, she didn't turn to acknowledge him. She stood with military precision at the computer monitor as her hands flew over the keys. She looked efficient and crisp in her white lab coat.

His head cocked as he scanned the room for the undefinable change in atmosphere. Her Chagall inspired print of the shattered spine was gone. There were no mummies or voodoo dolls next to the monitor. Any personal effects had been stripped and the lab looked about as welcoming as his forensic scientist did.

"Abbs," he called out in wary greeting.

"Agent Gibbs." Her response was cool and clipped. She did not turn around.

His mouth tightened as he braced for what was sure to be another unpleasant conversation. Abby hadn't discussed their undercover assignment or their disagreement since their encounter three days before. She had been ruthlessly efficient, and unlike himself clear-eyed and uncannily professional each time he had spoken with her. Goth fashion had been left at home, though she looked severe enough in unremitting black except for her lab coat. The only concession to her personal style was her shining nickel wrist cuffs.

He approached from behind and left the Caf-Pow within reach by her keyboard. "Got anything new, Abbs?"

She tilted her head and paused her typing only momentarily. "If I had, Agent Gibbs, I would have sent an email to inform you. Besides confirmation of Mikhail's DNA being the same as under Victim 3's fingernails, which I informed you of _two_ days ago, no I do _not_ have anything new."

He watched as her fingers virtually assaulted the keyboard with sharp strikes. He could only be grateful that it was taking the abuse he was sure she would rather have heaped on him.

"What about the leaves – were they a match?" Gibbs pressed on.

"I don't know that yet," She responded shortly. "If you would like to return to your desk, I will call McGee as soon as I have results." The implication that he would not be missed was quite evident.

Gibbs sighed. This couldn't continue. He stepped in closer next to her and pushed the keyboard out of reach. "Look Abbs, we gotta stop this." His gaze fixed on the delicate lines of her profile, even as her chin tilted up stubbornly.

Abby whirled and crossed behind a lab table, arranging materials fruitlessly in order, if only to give her hands something to do and her mind something to focus on. "I don't know what you mean. Has there been a problem with my work performance?"

Gibbs crossed his arms across his chest, bracing for the necessary showdown. "Abbs, come on…"

Her eyes flashed spitfire as she finally brought her gaze up to meet his. "Just what is your point, Gibbs?" Her hand gripped a beaker so tightly it might shatter.

He held her eyes with his own intent gaze. "We can't go on like this, Abbs. We need to work it out."

"Oh, now you want to work this out?" She fired back. "And do tell, just what is it you want from me this time?"

You. In my arms. In my bed. He cut that automatic thought off at the pass. No sense wanting what he couldn't have.

"We need to be able to work together, Abbs." He responded as gently as he could.

She lifted her eyebrow ironically. "But I have been working, Gibbs. I think you made it pretty clear that's all you wanted from me."

He flinched at the just accusation in her tone. "Abby…" he sighed, not sure how to continue.

Her voice cracked. "You can't have it both ways, Gibbs."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh please, don't break rule 6 on my account." Her voice was sharp and brittle, still not ready to give any quarter.

His lips compressed in frustration. Yes, he had been an ass, but she wasn't making this any easier for him. What the hell did she want from him anyway?

He strode forward and leaned across the lab table, his frustration simmering in his eyes as he gripped the stainless steel table edges tightly. "Look, Abbs. I fucked up. I get it. But what is it going to take so we can go back to how we were?" His voice dropped low. "I need you, Abbs."

She felt the tears prick behind her eyes. Damn him. She would not let them fall.

"No, you don't _get it_." She lashed back. "You _hurt me_. I trusted you and you hurt me."

Her upfront accusation was like a punch to the solar plexus. His head bowed as he searched for words that would never really make it better. "I know." He acknowledged.

Abby started to pace the length of the lab table, her hands wringing as she processed aloud. "I get it. You're not into me. Fine. Whatever." Her brow furrowed in thought. "But Gibbs, you acted like I threw myself at you. Like I throw myself at any guy…Like I didn't have any reason. But that wasn't fair." Her eyes accused him.

"I know."

"You know why? 'Cause maybe I read too much into things, but I wasn't the only one who crossed the line, Gibbs. You held me, you danced with me, you kissed _me,_ Gibbs. I wasn't the only one, you know."

"I know." His whisper sounded pained.

"So what the hell, Gibbs? There's a million ways to tell a girl 'No thanks' without making her feel like a slut!"

"Abby!" His eyes shot up to meet hers in denial.

"Well, you did!" Her gaze was unrelenting and unforgiving. "And I never would have thought that of you, Gibbs. Ever."

He swallowed hard. Truth was a biting bitch. He just couldn't find the words to respond.

This time Abby had no patience for him and his silences, either. She huffed quietly. "Well, I guess I got a first-hand taste of why the second 'b' is for bastard."

Her bitter words rained down, but he had no response to defend himself. She was right.

Abby sighed. "Just leave, Gibbs. You're good at that." She walked back to the monitor, keeping her back stiff.

He knew there was no further reasoning with her today and he felt the roiling frustration in himself that he, and no one else, had caused this. He left her lab silently. But as the elevator doors closed, he could hear the clink of ice cubes against the stainless steel sink as she poured out his peace offering. Gibb gripped the side rails of the elevator and his head clunked back against the wall. He didn't know how to fix this. He was screwed.

* * *

><p>He couldn't face the bullpen. Even if Ducky had no answers on the case, it was the only place in the building he could go when he was as churned up as he was right now.<p>

There were no new bodies to autopsy, Thank God. The medical examiner was seated at his desk examining his own notes. Ducky was meticulous that way. There was something about the kindly Scot that made him the de facto father confessor for them all. Gibbs was no exception.

"Ah…Jethro. I was wondering when you would stop by." Ducky did not seem the least surprised to see him and pushed a chair out for Gibbs to sit in.

But Gibbs stood behind the chair instead, leaning forward and gripping the armrests to support his weight. He grimaced in frustration, unable to know where to begin. The gentle doctor was as much a father figure to Abby as he was a friend to Gibbs. He probably should make sure the doctor didn't have a spare liver probe to spear him with.

"You look pained, Jethro." Ducky observed mildly.

"Ya think?" Gibbs shot back, before looking away, unable to face the calm direct gaze of his friend.

"Mmm," Ducky commented. "I assume you are here because of your conflict with Abigail."

Gibbs didn't respond and Ducky continued. "While Abby herself has been quite mum on the subject, one could not fail to notice some rather drastic changes in her demeanor." He laid down his pen, and cocked his head to the side assessing Gibbs with his glance. "And yours…"

Gibbs snorted. Ducky could be the master of the understatement when he chose.

"Tony saw fit to apprise me of your undercover operation and the….complications… that ensued." The doctor continued, but then paused awaiting a response from Gibbs that was not forthcoming.

Ducky gently tilted his head and waited Gibbs out. The agent was not the only one who knew that silence could be an effective interrogation technique.

"I hurt her." Gibbs acknowledged quietly.

"Why? I'm sure you didn't want to."

"Because it was better to hurt her a little now than have her hate me later." Gibbs finally admitted. It was like ripping off a bandage – better done quickly and with force. Then the pain was over and done.

"And what did you want, Jethro?" Ducky asked without judgment.

"It doesn't matter what I want, Ducky. She's young, she's beautiful and she's brilliant and she doesn't need a bitter, broken Marine with a truckload of baggage." It was a relief to say it out loud, even if the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. He hated that he couldn't be what Abby needed, especially when he wanted her so much.

"Ah…And I take it Abby did not appreciate your making this decision for her." Ducky stated the obvious.

Gibbs shrugged in response. He hadn't really given her an option.

"I am somehow reminded of the final work of Oscar Wilde." Ducky stood and flipped his notes shut. "A rather long and comprehensive ballad which he did not in fact attach his name to. It was put on the publication posthumously. The Ballad of Reading Gaol. His unfortunate imprisonment leant a maturity to his writing as tragedy so often does…Now let me see if I remember the verse…" His face lit up as he recalled the words and he lifted his finger admonishingly as he recited.

"**Yet each man kills the thing he loves,**  
><strong>By each let this be heard,<strong>  
><strong>Some do it with a bitter look,<strong>  
><strong>Some with a flattering word,<strong>  
><strong>The coward does it with a kiss,<strong>  
><strong>The brave man with a sword!<strong>"

He smiled faintly as he finished. Gibbs was in a gaol of his own devising. One could only hope the dear boy would come to his senses soon. Life, after all, was a very transient thing – and love was its sole redeeming value.

* * *

><p>TBC<p>

Thank you for the amazing reviews that keep me coming back to the keyboard! I appreciate every review so much!


	6. Fish or Cut Bait

NCIS and all of its wonderful characters – no they don't belong to me. Sigh, they never will. Some of them do belong to each other, though, don't you agree?

**Wake Up and Smell the Coffee (sequel to Sawdust and Gunpowder)** – Boundaries get crossed and bridges get burned. Will Abby and Gibbs ever get on the same page?

Rating – M. Not for kiddos. Really.

FWandFS (Fair Winds and Following Seas): Second Fanfic in this Fandom. Have written others as FeliciaMaplewood for Scarecrow and Mrs. King…Yes, I am dating myself by admitting that.

* * *

><p>Chapter 6 <strong>Fish or Cut Bait<strong>

"Ha!" Tony lauded himself as he hustled down the stairs. Ziva's recent comments about middle-aged spread had pricked his ego – especially as he had been compared unfavorably to McGeek. He could still find the Boss in record time to tell him they had a hit on the BOLO.

As he rounded the corner towards autopsy, he paused in surprise seeing Gibbs bent head and death grip on the arms of a chair. He might be the image of cold indifference in the bullpen, but down here with Ducky, he was the picture of a tortured man. The doors hissed open at his arrival and he heard Ducky reciting poetry. **Each man kills the thing he loves**. Ouch. Ducky didn't pull any punches.

Tony recognized that tortured look all too well. He had seen in the mirror for months after his breakup with Jeanne. Gibbs hadn't been playing with Abby. He loved her.

And with his well-established track record with women, he had fucked it up. Tony felt a flash of empathy for his boss. Not that he would show it. Gibbs wasn't the kind who liked to receive sympathy. He watched the impassive mask fall over Gibbs' face as he straightened to acknowledge Tony's arrival.

"Got a hit on the BOLO, Boss. Silver Springs, Maryland."

Gibbs strode toward the elevators, forgetting to take leave of Ducky. Tony hustled to shadow him. Ducky shook his head ruefully. If he knew Gibbs, he would always make himself too busy to allow time to feel. His job only enabled that tendency.

Tony waited for the elevator doors to close before deciding to tempt fate by prodding a former marine in close quarters. Hell, he managed to probe and taunt McGoo every day full well knowing that man could bankrupt him and ruin his reputation online with only a few keystrokes. He must like living dangerously.

"I've been outta line, Boss." Tony ceded generously as they both faced the doors. "And having Abby play your girlfriend probably wasn't such a good idea."

"Ya think, Dinozzo?" Gibbs shot back reflexively. He didn't have the energy to play Tony's verbal games today.

"Yeah. I've come to appreciate your position," Tony blithely nattered on. "It's gotta be, well, just plain embarrassing for you, have a girl decades younger than you hitting on you like that. I mean…well, you know…you always seem to prefer more…mature women."

"Seventeen," Gibbs ground out.

"Huh?"

"Years, DiNozzo. Not _decade_s." Gibbs corrected him shortly.

"Oh, well. Sure. I mean sometimes you see it in the movies. Not so much in real life. There was _Charade_ with Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant. And _Love in the Afternoon_ with her and Gary Cooper. Say…she must have really had a thing for older men. Maybe it goes with the black hair with chicks…you never know." Tony rocked back and forth from his toes to his heels as he soliloquized.

"DiNozzo…" Gibbs voice carried warning in it that the junior agent ignored.

"Then there's that Goth thing….that's gotta be embarrassing. I mean, seriously, a red white and blue guy like you out with a tattooed Goth chick. Never gonna happen." Tony shook his head.

Gibbs punched the emergency switch with more force than necessary as the elevator shuddered to a halt. It was a miracle that it passed the annual inspection with the abuse it took on a weekly basis.

"You got a point here?" Gibbs turned to face him and his voice had changed from warning to threatening. The chill in his eyes dropped the temperature in the small enclosure by a few degrees. If Tony thought he could get away with insulting Abby, he had another thing coming.

Tony opened his eyes wide in mock surprise. "Point? No Boss. I'm just saying I get it. You did what you had to do…you know. Fish or cut bait – you cut bait. What else could you do?"

Gibbs eyes narrowed and the muscle in his cheek jumped. As much as he wanted to deck Tony, that is exactly what he had done. He reached out and flipped the emergency switch back on.

"Shut up, DiNozzo." His voice was more weary than commanding.

Being no fool, Tony waited until just before the doors began to open at their floor before bringing up the heel of his hand to cuff his boss on the back of the head for the first time.

Gibbs stiffened in shocked surprise, his outraged growl cut off by the steely look in Tony's surprisingly understanding eyes.

"Shoulda gone fishing, Boss." Tony rejoined before virtually sprinting out of the elevator. He would head to MTAC and leave McGruff and Ziva to deal with their pissed off superior.

* * *

><p>Abby bit her lip uncertainly as her finger hovered over the mouse button. She steeled her spine and shut her eyes before pressing down the 'Send' button. There – she had done it. Let the chips fall where they may.<p>

It was late and she looked up to see her wan face reflected in the dark windows of the lab. She rolled her shoulders. Might as well stay and bunk down here, she had already told Tony she would. She didn't really want to go home, anyway. At least she could distract herself by monitoring the remaining tests that were running overnight. She pulled out her futon and Bert the hippo and curled up under her desk. Bert's flatulence echoed in the empty office.

Abby willed herself to sleep, but as her eyes shut she was bombarded with the images and thoughts she had managed to banish while she worked. She couldn't escape them here or at home: Leroy Jethro Gibbs. She could feel his presence solid and strong behind her shoulder as she worked. She could smell the faint traces of Old Spice and sawdust as he left a room. She could see his signing to her through her office door – hear his surprised laugh, rusty from too little use. His solid warmth as he hugged her and the loving kisses against her hair. She felt the tears leak from her eyelids and slide down her temples.

She had lost all of that with those too few passionate kisses. How could something that meant so much to her have meant so little to him? A sob caught in her throat. Ten years. Ten years of deferred wanting and wishing – watching him with wives and lovers. She knew it was why she had sabotaged all of her own relationships – pushing away the decent ones or wasting time with losers. She couldn't have him and she really wanted no one else. And she had known, she had always known, he didn't see her that way anyway. Or she had until the past two weeks.

She tossed restlessly as the memories of the past few weeks crowded her mind. Could she have only imagined the flashes of interest she had seen in his eyes? She had felt so cherished when he came to rescue at the cotillion. His touches lately had become more lingering, and so had his eyes. She wasn't an idiot. She knew what those glances meant in a man, and they certainly weren't fatherly interest.

She felt her cheeks warm and her breath become more rapid as she always did when she remembered their embracing. The heat had been explosive. She had seen Gibbs give the brush off to plenty of women over the years, he wouldn't have kissed her like if he hadn't wanted to. He had all but eaten her alive. She still had the fingertip bruises on her hips to prove it. What the hell had happened, anyway?

Her busy mind reviewed every conversation they had had since then. He never said he hadn't wanted her. He said it was a job. He had skirted the question and she had been so hurt, she had let him. Abby banged her head on the bottom of her desk as she shot up in surprise. She scooted out from underneath the desk and rose, rubbing her scalp as she began to pace across the office. Even today when she accosted him, Gibbs never said he didn't want her.

Huh. If there was one thing she knew, Gibbs always remembered her cardinal rule. Her only rule really:

#1 Never lie to Abby.

And he hadn't if you were being literal. But the nuns had taught her that a lie by omission was a lie nonetheless. She whirled and grabbed her car keys and her bag, searching through its depths to find her cell phone. She didn't give a damn how late it was. Gibbs had cost her enough sleep in the past few weeks, he owed her. He would damn well talk when she wanted to talk this time.

Abby's lips curled in a willful smile and she hurried out of the lab and the building and into the parking lot. She had come the closest she ever had to having Gibbs right where she wanted him this past week – in her life, in her heart and in her bed. And she wasn't going down without a fight.

Her head bent down in the dim light of the lot to scroll through her list of contacts before hitting the dial button.

"Gibbs?"…..

* * *

><p>TBC<p>

Reviews...please?


	7. Nuking bridges

NCIS and all of its wonderful characters – no they don't belong to me. Sigh, they never will. Some of them do belong to each other, though, don't you agree?

**Wake Up and Smell the Coffee (sequel to Sawdust and Gunpowder)** – Boundaries get crossed and bridges get burned. Will Abby and Gibbs ever get on the same page?

Rating – M. Not for kiddos. Really.

FWandFS (Fair Winds and Following Seas): Second Fanfic in this Fandom. Have written others as FeliciaMaplewood for Scarecrow and Mrs. King…Yes, I am dating myself by admitting that.

* * *

><p>Chapter 7 <strong>Nuking Bridges<strong>

Abby was so damn beautiful when she was aroused – her eyes dilated with desire and her lips lush and full from their bruising kisses. He playfully pulled on her pigtail to give himself better access to her neck as her throaty moan kicked up his arousal another notch. She was made for loving.

Abby was impatient, too as she slid her hands under his shirt, caressing the warm skin of his back, pulling away from his kisses long enough to tug his shirt upwards insistently. He humored her growled insistence, and peeled off the shirt and threw it over the sofa arm. Gibbs' breath hissed out in tense pleasure and she virtually purred as she ran her fingers through the hair on his chest and pressed a lingering wet kiss in the hollow of his throat.

He wanted to take it slow and memorize every inch of her – every responsive inch that made her sigh, moan and call out for him. But repressed desire had a way of packing a powerful punch, and he had trouble functioning rationally in the haze that clouded his mind. Her hands felt so damn good against his skin, but he gripped her wrists as she skirted her fingertips just below his waistband. If she kept that up, they would be over before they had begun.

And he wanted to see her – he desperately wanted to see her. He had ten years of fantasy to match up with reality. He spun her around, pressing his evident desire into her backside and grew even harder at the whimper she uttered helplessly. Gibbs pressed hot wet kisses along the arch and then the nape of her neck as he caressed her high rounded curves through her t-shirt lightly. He laughed low and possessively as Abby arched back against him, pressing one palm against her breast and pulling the other to rub against her hot core through her pants. She was wearing far too many clothes and he needed to feel the sweet slide of her skin against his. He craved it.

He slowly peeled her black t-shirt over her head, watching the tattoos he had fantasized about for years appear. As he gripped her hot, smooth skin around the waist, his thumbs traced the whorls of her cross at the base of her spine and she shivered. His palms slid forward and upwards to cup the weight of her breasts as he feathered kisses over the characters on her shoulder blades. Later…much later…he would find out what they meant. He had been dreaming about them since he had seen them in her damn Marilyn dress years ago.

She spun impatiently in his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck, and his eyes shut in a wave of sensual pleasure as her soft breasts brushed his chest for the first time. He heard his own ragged moan as Abby traced the corded length of his neck with her tongue even as she rubbed sinuously against his erection.

He wanted her so much it hurt.

A car alarm shattered the silence of the night outside.

Gibbs awoke with a start, his heart pounding and body yearning for completion. Fuck. Not again.

He threw his forearm up over his eyes as he released a forced breath, willing his body to calm down as he slowly and reluctantly returned to reality. The chill of the room was a balm to his overheated skin as he restlessly tossed away the blanket. The room was empty. So damn empty.

He couldn't give in to that train of thought. He tried to force himself to think of the job - interviews, ballistics, the dossiers of the victims. Anything that would distract him from his nightly fantasies and the aching pain that accompanied him during his waking hours. Hell - it was no use.

He sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, cradling his head in his palms. It wasn't going to get any easier. He felt broken. Like an over-wound clockwork toy that continued to move, but jerkily and without purpose before giving out.

He hadn't realized how much he had come to depend on the small moments of affection with Abby that peppered his days. He knew his team respected him, even loved him in a way – much as one loved a difficult, cranky uncle that you had tread around lightly. He could depend on them and in his own understated way, tried to show them he loved them too. But he was the boss.

He was the boss. And when they saw the boss round the corner, they all made an effort to straighten up and fly right – eager to please and eager to perform. But the only person every day who genuinely was _happy_ to see him had been Abby. Watching her face light up on his arrival tugged a visceral emotional response in him. How he loved her boundless enthusiasm and sidelong smiles, her gentle flirtations and the sparkle in her eyes. How could he not fall for her just a little deeper every day?

Gibbs pressed the heels of his hands deeper into his sockets, as he felt his throat tighten with tears he could never shed. Somewhere along the line, he didn't know just when, he had fallen in love with her. And before he could admit it even to himself, he had lost her.

With that, he had lost the only remaining point of light throughout his day. Going to work felt like an emotional amputation. How could he face going in day after day having her hate him – or worse yet, having her just not care. Abby would fill the void. She had so much love to give that she just drew people towards her. She didn't know how _not _to share that love and some lucky bastard would benefit from his own stupidity. But she deserved that – a man who could love her back without a history of emotional failures, someone who wouldn't quash that light like he would. She deserved someone _young_ – someone who could give her a future. But he didn't know how he could cope with watching it happen.

He rubbed his hand across the roughness of his stubbled cheek. Might as well make coffee, he wasn't gonna sleep tonight either. He didn't trust himself to go the basement and the bourbon that waited there. Gibbs reached out for the t-shirt he had flung over the arm of the sofa and slipped it on and rose to head to the kitchen, but was stopped by the frantic buzz of his cell phone on the coffee table.

Huh. Fornell. His night just couldn't get any better.

"Yeah. Gibbs." His voice rasped with sleep deprivation.

"Wanna tell me what the hell is going on over there at NCIS, Jethro?" Fornell barked without greeting.

"Context – Tobias?"

"That slightly off-centered forensic scientist of yours called me out of the blue this afternoon and asked if I still wanted to go to lunch," Fornell responded. "Seems like she's considering the FBI's standard open-ended offer. Gotta tell you my director would be delighted, even if I think she's a few Jacks short of a full deck."

Gibbs eyes shut as he felt his stomach fall in dread. He should have guessed something like this would happen.

"So I asked her 'Why the sudden change of heart?'. She's always been so stuck on staying in that crappy little crime lab of yours – so damn loyal to you, God knows why..." Fornell charged on heedless of the silence on the other end. "Wouldn't give me a straight answer."

Gibbs could hear the clatter of dishes in the background that indicated the FBI senior agent was making his evening's dinner at ten p.m. He hung on silently, his knuckles white as he gripped the phone tightly in his hand.

"So?" Tobias prodded.

He was met with silence. "Yeah. Thought so. Never saw you burn a bridge, Jethro when you figured nuking it wouldn't be a better option." Tobias sighed. "OK. Here's what I'll do. Miss Scuito just emailed me her resume…like I really needed that," he laughed. "I'm waitin' 24 hours before I give it to my director. OK?"

Gibbs bent his head at the brief reprieve.

"Hey – you there?"

"Yeah. I'm here." Gibbs' voice was soft and measured.

"That gives you 24 hours to clean up your nuclear fallout, Jethro. After that, all bets are off." Tobias let out a short, bitter laugh. "I'd like to keep my job and we've been trying to poach her for years."

Gibbs saw Abby's name flash up on his cell phone and his heart jumped. No way was he missing this one.

"Got a call, Tobias," Gibbs bit off quickly.

"Yeah? Well, you're welco.." Fornell's voice was cut off as Gibbs hung up on him.

He picked up the other call in a rush. "Abby!" He wasn't going to miss the opportunity to talk to her, no matter what she had to say to him.

"Gibbs!" Her voice was vibrant and urgent as it always had been whenever she greeted him, unlike the cold indifference she had shown him this week. A second chance. His heart lifted in relief.

Until the line went dead.

* * *

><p>TBC<p>

Yeah...I know another cliffhanger. It's getting to be a bad habit. But your amazing reviews do make me run back to the keyboard faster to update! Less emotional angst - more adventure/drama on the horizon...

I know I'm asking you to enable my bad habit - but reviews? Please?


	8. DryGulch

NCIS and all of its wonderful characters – no they don't belong to me. Sigh, they never will. Some of them do belong to each other, though, don't you agree?

**Wake Up and Smell the Coffee (sequel to Sawdust and Gunpowder)** – Boundaries get crossed and bridges get burned. Will Abby and Gibbs ever get on the same page?

Rating – M. Not for kiddos. Really.

FWandFS (Fair Winds and Following Seas): Second Fanfic in this Fandom. Have written others as FeliciaMaplewood for Scarecrow and Mrs. King…Yes, I am dating myself by admitting that.

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><p><strong>Chapter 8 – Dry-Gulch**<strong>

"Abby!" She heard Gibbs voice, urgent and strong on the other end of the line. He had picked up on the first ring. She felt a soaring lift of her heart that only his voice could cause.

Distracted, as she approached her coupe classic, she ignored the unease she always felt approaching her car late at night. Tony would have had her head. It was one of Gibbs unwritten rules that an agent stayed to walk Abby to her car. While normally he had reserved the honor for himself, she had so blatantly rejected his company that he had quietly delegated the responsibility to Tony. The brash agent had hovered in her lab, waiting to escort her until she promised him, laying her left hand on a forensics text and raising her right hand in the air that she would sleep in the lab that night. He had still left reluctantly.

Budget cuts had impacted the Navy Yard just like everywhere and guard details were fewer in number, relying instead on camera surveillance of the parking lots. Gibbs had been dissatisfied with the obvious and outdated system that was installed and had McGee design a supplementary system with discreetly hidden cameras. The agents at NCIS courted enemies on a weekly basis and as their leader, he couldn't be too careful. But cameras alone wouldn't satisfy the senior agent. As he pointed out to Vance, by the time you used them the horse had left the barn. So, the unwritten rule which would surely soon be codified was implemented – Abby needed an escort. And it had worked perfectly…until tonight.

"Hel…"Abby's cries went unnoticed as the phone was ripped from her hand and closed. Her arms came up futilely to pull at the arm that had wrapped itself around her neck from behind, cutting off her airway. She turned her head and tucked her chin to protect her throat, thrashing mightily to throw off her attacker. She wasn't a small woman and she wasn't easy to hold. She felt satisfaction as her right elbow drove back hard into the ribs of her assailant.

"You Bitch!" She heard the man growl as then her nickel plated gauntleted wrists caught the side of his head behind her and drew blood. He smelled bitter like fear and sweat, with an overpowering cheap cologne that made her gag.

Abby wasn't a trained fighter like Ziva, but she was a willful, biting wildcat and wasn't going down without a fight. He wasn't that much taller than her, though heavily muscled. She wrestled and used her height and body weight to their maximum advantage, throwing herself against her own vehicle. Her assailant cursed mightily as he braced himself against the car to gain leverage against the hellcat he had been sent to abduct.

Abby felt lightheaded from the lack of oxygen and with her last remaining breaths, unsnapped the bloody cuff from her right wrist unseen by her attacker who had a death grip on her upper arm, with his left arm still wrapped around her neck. She sagged as she dropped the cuff to the ground and kicked it under the Deuce coupe. She dropped as dead weight and pulled her attacker with her, hearing him groan as his head clipped her rearview mirror. Served the bastard right, she took a moment's bitter satisfaction before succumbing to the black of unconsciousness.

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><p>"Abby?...Abbs!" Gibbed barked into the phone before realizing the line had been cut off. Swearing, he redialed her and swore again mightily when it shot straight to voicemail. It wasn't like Abby to play games.<p>

He quickly dialed her house and hung up without leaving a message when he couldn't reach her. An unsettling disquiet filled his gut, as he grabbed his badge and gun and threw on his shoes and jacket. Damn, she wasn't picking the phone up in the lab either. When he couldn't reach the guard station at the Navy Yard, the disquiet shifted to alarm. His snapped orders at the next rank up the chain left them scurrying to find out what had happened at the gate.

Gibbs' Charger peeled down the neighborhood streets as he raced to the Navy Yard, hoping against hope his gut was wrong and he was overreacting.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs snapped into his cell phone.

"Boss?" Tony replied in surprise. Gibbs was in full marine mode, he knew that tone of voice.

"What time did you walk Abby to her car?"

"Wha…I didn't!" Tony responded in confusion. "She was bunking down in the lab to run tests and refused to leave. I told Gentry and Barrings to keep an eye on her when they did their rounds overnight."

"Fuck!" Tony heard the squeal of tires abrading the pavement and knew without being told where Gibbs was heading.

"On it Boss…I'll call Ziva and McGee and meet you there." Tony felt his own heart rate kick up a notch. Abby had been his responsibility and he loved the crazy little bat creature. He wouldn't forgive himself if something happened to her.

When they arrived, the general uproar let them know that all was not well. Military vehicles surrounded the lot and heightened security was present at the gates. A day late and a dollar short. The lone guard had been overpowered and rendered unconscious, but he'd live. In the glaring the center of the emergency lights set up in the parking lot, they found Gibbs already coolly taking snapshots of an evident struggle – a blood trail, dents on Abby's car, her bloody gauntlet.

McGee felt the surreal horror he had felt when he approached Tony's burned out car so many years ago. Just as he had then, Gibbs' allowed no time to process their own personal loss and anxiety before ordering them to work the scene. Only the set of his mouth and the cold fire in his eyes would let anyone know the personal pain he was feeling. "McGee – security tapes are inside."

Startled, McGee nodded and swallowed hard. "On it Boss."

Tony paused in wide-eyed horror at the blood trail against Abby's car. Not Abby…

"Tony….,Tony…." Gibbs raised his voice sharply to get his attention, "Hey! DiNozzo!"

Tony met his eyes slowly, still taking in the impossible dread of what faced them. "I don't have time for this Tony. Help McGee. You _find_ something, hear?"

Ziva coolly snapped on her rubber gloves and pushed Tony toward the door. Like Gibbs' she responded to crisis with cool precision in the moment. She would have time to react later. She crouched looking at the blood trail on the ground, before looking up to meet Gibbs' implacable eyes.

She pointed to a spot a few feet from the car. "It started here, yes? Then, they struggled by the hood." She pointed to the blood smear across the hood. "And here…," she continued to narrate as she walked around the car, pointing to the bloody marks on the rearview mirror and the running board of the classic car. "She stopped fighting here." Ziva noted coolly, pointing to the signs of drag marks in the sandy debris across the paved parking lot. "It looks like one assailant. Two would have carried her." Her eyes were steady and cold, a quietly banked rage that would spark only when she could lay her well-trained hands on the man who had hurt her friend.

Gibbs nodded, grateful for her cool professionalism. Ziva's logical mind and steady hand were exactly what he needed to keep firm reins on his own sanity. She took the camera from his clenched hand and started snapping pictures. He could trust her not to miss a thing. After the photos were complete, he reached under her car to retrieve the bloody cuff and place it in an evidence bag.

"That was left by design." Ziva's firm intonation cut through the silence of the night. "It does not fit the pattern of the struggle."

Gibbs looked back at her sharply, lifting an eyebrow.

She cocked her head. "You or I – we would have fought. That is our natural response." Her eyes scanned the length of the car and rested on the bag in his hand. "Abby left forensic evidence. That would be her response. She did all that she could do." She pointed to the smears and the imprint of a bloody palm against the pristine car.

Gibbs nodded once, his throat tight. Ziva was right. That is exactly how Abby's mind worked. He flipped open his phone and speed dialed Fornell – short of Abby, the FBI had the best forensic lab out there. If she had been kidnapped due to the mob connections on this case, he had more than enough reason to involve the FBI. He could call in a few markers, Tobias owed him.

As they headed to the bull-pen, they heard before they saw the sounds of struggle on the security video. It was McGee, still dressed in his MIT t-shirt and sweats, who intently watched the video on the plasma, pausing to view, rewind, and view again. Ziva realized he must have literally rolled out of bed to answer the emergency call to action. That dedication didn't surprise her.

Tony, gripping his desk with white knuckles couldn't watch the screen and gazed down at his desktop, but flinched as he heard the muffled recordings of the struggle. His tortured eyes met the cool steady ones of his Boss who only lifted an eyebrow in reprimand. Tony flinched again as he faced the screen, watching the replay of Abby hitting the pavement in deadweight, out of air.

The only sign of McGee's distress was his clenched jaw as he furiously took notes, playing the tape frame by frame. His tone was business-like and rushed as Gibbs came to stand closely behind him. He pointed to the back of the black van. "It's a Chevrolet Express Cargo Van, Boss. I got a partial plate – Maryland – first part is missing, but final 3 characters are 8JZ. It has a dent in the rear bumper and the front and back tires don't match." McGee's voice began to shake slightly as continued. "Single assailant, caucasian, about six feet – dark brown or black hair. Wearing a black track suit and I'm pretty sure they are Nike running shoes. Right handed. He'll have an injury on his right temple and bite marks on his left forearm." McGee paused and swallowed hard.

Gibbs clapped him on the shoulder. "Good work, Tim." The image wasn't clear, but the man's frame looked like that of Ostepenchevko's hired muscle, Paulie.

McGee closed his eyes and nodded once. He only hoped it would be enough. "I'll keep looking, Boss." His voice cracked with the strain. It was Abby, he would never stop looking.

"DiNozzo…", Gibbs turned to order him to contact the Silver Springs PD, only to find the agent already working the lines. Better to give his guilt an outlet, Gibbs knew all too well. The BOLO they had received from that department had a response placing him at the Metro station in Silver Springs, but no vehicle had been found. Ostepenchevko had disappeared again. But, at least now they had something for them to look for.

"McGee…", but as he turned to order him to inform state police in the tri-state area, he found him also already calling it in.

Gibbs turned and approached his former Mossad agent quietly, the only other one among them who always thought of the worst case scenario. "Ziva, how long did Ducky say those women had been drugged before they were killed?" Gibbs voice was neutral and hard as he asked the question he feared most.

"12 hours…", she whispered staring at the plasma screen, paused on an image of Abby's limp form, the reality of Abby's abduction finally sinking in.

Gibbs fingers bit into the back of her desk chair, as he fought down the clawing panic that rose within him. If they couldn't find her, Abby had only 11 hours left.

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><p>**Chapter 8: Dry-Gulch: To dry-gulch means to sneak attack andor kill from a hidden or deserted place.

TBC

Thank you to all who have been kind enough to take the time and review! It means so much :-)


	9. Windmills of the Mind

NCIS and all of its wonderful characters – no they don't belong to me. Sigh, they never will. Some of them do belong to each other, though, don't you agree?

**Wake Up and Smell the Coffee (sequel to Sawdust and Gunpowder)** – Boundaries get crossed and bridges get burned. Will Abby and Gibbs ever get on the same page?

Rating – M. Not for kiddos. Really.

FWandFS (Fair Winds and Following Seas): Second Fanfic in this Fandom. Have written others as FeliciaMaplewood for Scarecrow and Mrs. King…Yes, I am dating myself by admitting that.

Sorry for the delay folks – lost internet access for the past several days.

Moments of fangirl freakout - I was at the airport parking garage today and saw a DODGE CHALLENGER R&T (red, not yellow and black) but mint! I started hyperventilating much to the amazement of my 80+ year old father (since I've never been particularly into muscle cars). My father has begun to fear for my sanity….. but I know you all will understand!

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><p>Chapter 9: Windmills of the Mind<p>

Crack! The stinging pain was almost a welcome sensation as Abby felt her head snap to the side. At the second blow, she could taste the copper taint of blood as the corner of her lip split. But it grounded her. It felt real, unlike the haze that clouded her mind. It felt a little like laughing gas, or at least what she thought laughing gas would feel like. She had never had a cavity or a filling, after all.

"Tell me about Campanula," a gravelly voice ordered.

"Wha…?"

"Gibson Campanula," the disembodied voice demanded again.

Abby cracked her eyes open, closing them in protest at the gritty feeling behind her eyelids coupled with the glaring light. "Gibbs?" she asked.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

"He's gonna be so pissed," Abby murmured.

"Whatever...tell me about Gibbs."

Abby roused from her stupor...definitely something hinky going on here. "Not gonna tell you anything about Gibbs!"

"Ask her something specific. She needs to answer specific questions," that voice was more refined but nervous.

Abby resisted grabbing hold of any chain of thought she could to anchor and distract herself. "Antimony, arsenic, beryllium, nitrogen, palladium, tellurium, thallium," she chanted in a low voice.

"What the fuck is she talking about, Nick?"

"I didn't catch it, but I heard her talk about arsenic and thallium. They're poisons."

"You're boyfriend, he poisoned people?"

"Of course not!". She had dated some pretty quirky guys, but none of them had poisoned anyone. Stalking, yeah-but no poison. She lost track of her elements...how about Pi? 3.14159...

"Did Gibbs kill anyone?" Nick asked. He was the one with the smooth voice.

"Well, yeah! He shoots them." Abby responded. Stupid question. "But only when it's his job. He's not a bad guy or anything…well, usually when it's his job." Abby pressed her lips together firmly trying to shut that train of thought down tightly.

"Was he paid for it?"

"Paid for what?" She really wished they would leave her alone and let her sleep. Her cheek was throbbing now and she felt cranky.

"Paid for shooting people!" It was gravel voice again.

"Duh! I told you, it's a job. It's not like he does it for fun...I mean I know there's plenty of guys he'd like to shoot. 'specially at the FBI, but he doesn't have to. You know - he's just yanking their chain..." Oops they had her talking again. Prime numbers...recite primes... 2 3 5 7 11 13 17 19 23 29 31 37 …

"Has he ever killed a Federal Agent?" smooth voice asked calmly.

"Well, one that I know of. He had to - it was on a crowded bus. He still feels bad about it...I mean not like he talks about it, cause never talks 'bout that stuff. But I know."

"How long have you known 'Gibbs'?"

That must be Nick again, he was the one with the soothing voice. She didn't mind him so much. "10 years." A decade, she thought, she hadn't really noticed any other man for more than a passing fling in a whole decade.

Ostenpenchevko was surprised they had looked like a new couple - still eager to burn the sheets. He fired out the next question, "What's his next job?"

Abby frowned and stuck out her chin, "I can't tell you that!" She was indignant. "Gibbs has rules!" She couldn't remember which one, it was in the 30's.

Her head whipped back as Ostenpenchevko hit her again. Nick winced. Senseless violence didn't get questions answered, but Paulie who was standing on the sidelines smiled. Stupid bitch probably gave him rabies when she bit him, he rubbed his arm furtively.

Gibbs is so going to make you pay for that, Abby thought truculently. She mentally shut down, ignoring the men, their voices and the biting pain in her wrists tied behind her against the steel chair. Abby descended step by step onto a staircase deep within her mind, not unlike the rough wood stairs in Gibbs' basement. She could smell the sawdust as the particles danced in the dim streams of light afforded by the small windows that faced his garden. In her mind, she saw the inverted frame and partially planked boat he had last worked on. She would take shelter under there until he returned to her. She snagged his red sweatshirt off a sawhorse and rolled it up in a ball to make a pillow. It wasn't Bert, but it smelled like Gibbs which more than compensated.

Lost in the windmills of her mind, she missed the argument that Mikhail's actions had caused.

"We've lost the optimum window to get her to talk." Nick argued. "I can't dose her again, it's too soon."

"I don't think you gave her enough - you couldn't shut up the others." Mikhail complained.

"That's the point," Nick had schooled himself in patience. He needed it working with these Neanderthals. "They wanted to talk. They were so pissed off at their Ex-es, they had no loyalty to them."

Mikhail Ostenpenchevko had muscled his way up the ladder in the Baltimore area crime rings through information he used to take out his opponents. Trusting that hell truly had no fury like a woman scorned, he waited until the other crime bosses tired of their arm candy and evicted them from the estate. The girls knew and trusted him from their time on the estate, and with only a dose of sodium pentathol, they had pretty much sung like canaries. Pillow talk had yielded more info than most would have guessed. Nick was a genius at getting them to talk, and if he thought that final dose of Rohypnol was sufficient to make them forget, he didn't need to know that Mikhail had opted for a more permanent solution. Nick was squeamish that way, but Paulie wasn't. Paulie could be counted on to hide the bodies. And then there had been that sailor sniffing around. It had taken two of them to silence him.

This Goth chick was the second navy connection. Campanula had some sweet connection there - Government contacts - the guy had balls. That was a big time scam and he wasn't even a local. That sailor must have been working for him too. He should have squeezed him harder, but Paulie had spooked and Mikhail killed him too soon. Good info wasted.

Campanula had loyal followers - neither one had been easy to crack. Paulie had followed this Abby chick for a week almost and swore it looked like a breakup from the moment Campanula had dropped her off. She shouldha been ripe for the picking. No dice.

"Hey - look, I don't care how you get it, but you get her to spill." If new blood coming into town thought he could squeeze out Mikhail Ostenpenchevko, he had another thing coming. But on truth serum this one had already confirmed that this guy was a killer for hire. He had killed an FBI agent, for fuck's sake. She had info he could use to take Campanula down. One way or another he was going to get it.

Nick nodded reluctantly before injecting the pale and striking girl with another half dose. It had its dangers, but this dose should shatter her remaining inhibitions.

He stroked her hair as he saw the rapid eye movement begin under her lids. This one was so different from the others - not painted and plastic, but sweetly beautiful with a dusting of danger. At least she wouldn't remember it. He always made sure they were dosed with Rohypnol. A lost weekend would be a lot better than recalling Mikhail's version of interrogation.

Disoriented, Abby tilted her head toward the gentle caress. "Gibbs?" She called out plaintively.

"Gibbs left you, remember?" Nick murmured. He needed her to trust him.

It was 'Smooth voice', the one they called Nick. Abby opened her eyes groggily and almost retched at the nausea that swamped her. Why couldn't they just leave her alone?

She shook her head, Gibbs might have pulled away -but he would never leave her. He would never hurt her like this.

Nick recognized her refusal and tried a new tact. "What do you want me to tell him, Abby?"

She shook her head again in agitation. "Can't tell him. 's 'gainst the rules. Rule 12. And Rule #4. And Rule #7." **

"What do the numbers mean, sweetheart?" Nick asked soothingly.

Stupid question. She thought groggily. If he didn't know the numbers, he didn't know Gibbs. She shook her head violently. She couldn't talk anymore. Tears welled up in her eyes as she realized she might never see Gibbs again. She might never get to tell him.

"I'll tell him, Abby…What is it Gibbs needs to know?" Nick prodded again. He could tell she was on the cusp of giving up deeply secreted information, he knew the signs.

She forced herself to open her eyes and met his gaze with clear and righteous anger. "I'll tell him myself. 'Cause Gibbs is gonna come here and rain hell down on you - and nobody, not archangels and all the company of heaven is gonna stand in his way."

Nick reared back in surprise at the focused intensity of those green eyes. That was not what he expected. But he also knew it was the truth as she saw it. She wasn't capable of lying to him in her chemically induced state. He felt a shiver of alarm that not even Mikhail could raise in him at the calm certainty in the middle of her furious gaze.

She closed her eyes again and sagged against her bonds. She just had to wait. Gibbs would find her and save her. He might not want her, but he loved her like family. She knew it. And the unstated, understood rule was that you did what you had to for family.

Her thoughts converged and spliced, becoming more discordant and unrelated. Her connections were becoming illogical and alarming, even to her. She tried vainly to find that safe staircase, the one back into Gibbs' basement, but her whirling thoughts clouded the entrance. Abby whimpered at her isolation as the images in her mind spiraled out of her control. Would Gibbs never come?

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><p>**Rule 4: The best way to keep a secret? Keep it to yourself. Second best? Tell one other person - if you must. There is no third best.<p>

Rule 7: Always be specific when you lie.

Rule 12: Never date a co-worker.

TBC (soon, I promise).


	10. Come Hell or High Water

NCIS and all of its wonderful characters – no they don't belong to me. Sigh, they never will. Some of them do belong to each other, though, don't you agree?

**Wake Up and Smell the Coffee (sequel to Sawdust and Gunpowder)** – Boundaries get crossed and bridges get burned. Will Abby and Gibbs ever get on the same page?

Rating – M. Not for kiddos. Really.

FWandFS (Fair Winds and Following Seas): Second Fanfic in this Fandom. Have written others as FeliciaMaplewood for Scarecrow and Mrs. King…Yes, I am dating myself by admitting that.

Thank you to the kind reviewers and patient readers. My regrets for the long delay in updating. Real life – sick kids, work school and (most frustrating of all) writer's block – all got in the way.

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><p>Mikhail Ostenpenchevko spat at Abby's feet in disgust. This chick was a waste of space. She had told them nothing. Just useless ramblings with scientific mumbo jumbo.<p>

"Dose her." He barked at Nick, his trained interrogator.

"I told you, I can't give her anymore sodium pentothal. Not for a few hours…" Nick argued.

"The Rohypnol, you idiot. She's useless. We drug her and ditch her."

Nick was perversely relieved. He felt oddly protective of the tattooed girl. He wanted her far gone from them all. He poured the Rohypnol into some apple juice and brought it to Abby's lips.

"Abby," he murmured. "You need to drink this."

Even disoriented as she was, Abby rebelled, pursing her lips and turning her head away. "No! Can't make me drink that. Think I'm gonna make it easy for him?"

"It's OK Abby." Nick cajoled. "Just drink this and all of this will go away, OK?" He tilted her head back and pinched her nose as he poured the apple juice in her mouth as she opened to breathe in. Abby coughed and sputtered as she swallowed.

She glared at him. "You think I'll just forget? Bull!" She tilted her head at Paulie lurking in the darkened corner. "They kill them. Sodium Pentothal, Rohypnol and then pfft…they strangle them. All four of them!" She turned her wrath on Mikhail. "But you kill me, asshole, and you won't be able to run far enough before Gibbs gets you." Her voice dropped to a vicious whisper, "And God help you when he does."

"You strangled them?" Nick whirled on Mikhail furiously. That hadn't been part of the plan. Nick had done many things he wasn't proud of, but he drew the line at murder.

"She doesn't know what she's talking about." Mikhail shrugged not meeting Nick's eyes. "She's drugged out and confused."

"She had _truth serum_, she _can't_ lie!" Nick shot back furiously, realizing that Abby had spoken the truth. "She knew about all of them. How could she know about all of them and lie?"

Mikhail's cold eyes met his interrogator's. "You didn't need to know, but now you do. Feel better?" His tone was sarcastic. He pulled out his pistol to finish this quickly, if they knew that the others were strangled, he might as well shoot this one.

Nick stood between them holding Paulie's spare pistol that he grabbed off the desk behind him shakily. He swallowed hard. "If you're going to shoot her, you'll have to shoot me first."

The mob boss suddenly decided that Nick had outlived his usefulness. Mikhail lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Ok, then." He lifted his gun and one shot rang out, and then another.

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><p>"This is an FBI operation, Jethro. You go in behind us." Tobias Fornell adopted a customary bulldog stance.<p>

"Won't be a problem," Gibbs rejoined.

"Good."

"As long as none of your men comes between me and Ostenpenchevko." Gibbs finished. "Wouldn't want any of your agents to get hurt."

"Gibbs…," Fornell warned.

Gibbs stepped in nose to nose with Fornell in the alley as the metro train rumbled overhead into Silver Springs Station. "I don't have time for a pissing match, Tobias. Get your men ready. My people already are." He turned his back on the FBI agent and sprinted back to rejoin Ziva, Tony and McGee at the fire exit of the empty office building. McGee had traced their suspects to this seemingly innocuous location in the middle of the quiet Maryland city.

He could the feel the tension coiled within him. Abby was behind those doors, hurt but God willing she was alive. Fornell had exactly one minute to get his act together or he was going in without them. Screw the damn FBI.

One shot rang out, then another. Terror clawed his gut before military training took over. "Go!" he shouted but Tony was already kicking in the door. They fanned out, clearing room by room as Gibbs sprinted up the staircase Ziva at his side. The shots had been fired above them. McGee and DiNozzo were only steps behind them.

As they turned the corner into a wide Spartan office, they saw Mikhail clutching his right thigh with blood blossoming from the wound. Nick's lanky form lay sprawled on the ground a wound high in the chest spilling blood in a widening circle beneath him. Miraculously Abby wasn't wounded by the gunfire, but was clearly injured and disoriented, sagging against her bonds in the chair. Gibbs heart stuttered and kick started back into life. He hadn't lost her. Come hell or high water, he would never lose her again.

Gibbs started towards her, unaware of Paulie lurking in the shadows until the crack of a bullet split the silence.

"Drop it, asshole. You're outnumbered." DiNozzo warned, training a gun on him. The hulking guard cried out as Ziva's knife whizzed through the air, pinning his shooting arm to the wall immediately behind him.

"The Ninja strikes again!" Tony admired, even as McGee disarmed Ostenpenchevko and seated him, calling through an intercom link for medical assistance. Mikhail had a flesh wound, but Nick's wound was more serious.

Ziva darted forward to apply pressure to Nick's wound, as the man became steadily paler. She looked up to report on his condition to Gibbs but was rendered speechless, as were Tony and McGee.

"Gibbs!" Abby murmured as a beatific smile washed over her.

He kneeled and captured her face in hands that were shaking in relief as he leaned in to kiss her thoroughly. "Abby…My Abbs." His fingers lightly traced the bruising across her cheeks and cuts near her eyes and lip. Later, he would make them pay for those. But for now, he was just so grateful for her steady pulse and the warm pull of her lips as he pressed one and another kiss on her.

"I knew you'd come." She sighed, as Gibbs moved behind her to release her from her bonds. "Didn't tell them anything, knew the rules."

His throat tightened at her faith in him and her quiet courage. He had almost been too late. Gibbs squatted and wrapped her arms around his neck before rising to lift her easily in his arms. "Easy, Abbs." He whispered reassuringly as she rested confidingly against him.

The room began to dim and blacken around her, but she was safe now. Gibbs had her. Abby let the darkness overtake her.

"You got this?" Gibbs met Tony's wide questioning eyes, nodding towards Mikhail.

"Yeah, Boss."

"OK, You're in charge. Don't let Fornell tell you any different." Gibbs carried Abby tightly against him with her head tucked under his chin, as he took her to a waiting ambulance.

Ziva saw Tony open his mouth as their boss left, and shook her head, giving him a speaking look and tilting her head towards McGee. Tony closed it suddenly, looking a bit like a fish in a tank. They would have plenty of time to talk about it later. And he would.

Even as FBI agents finally spilled into the room, Tony began reading Ostenpenchevko his rights, DiNozzo style.

"You have the right to remain silent." He barked before whispering in Mikhail's ear "'Cause I think my boss is gonna cut out your tongue." The mob boss blanched.

For Fornell's benefit, he said loudly "Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney" He postulated before muttering "which you may want to exercise to write your last will and testament."

As Fornell approached them, Tony continued to Mirandize the man without further ad libs, but his point had been made. Ostenpenchevko was pale, but not from a lack of blood. Tony would be damned if he'd let the guy have the comfort of a gurney or a wheelchair. Before he escorted the man from the room, he turned to respond to Ziva's drawled inquiry behind him.

"Tony, would you be kind enough to lend me your knife?"

"Aw Ziva, not again!" Tony complained before slipping his knife from its concealed sheath in his belt.

He enjoyed seeing the thug's eyes widen as Ziva sauntered toward his form still pinned against the wall as she appraisingly ran her thumb against the blade to test its sharpness.

The FBI agents had left to get their equipment to process the room, as the medics wheeled Nick out on a gurney.

McGee turned to face the former Mossad agent. "Aah…Ziva, I don't think we should…" He returned to silence on meeting Ziva's cool stare. He nodded once, trusting that Ziva would only scare the man and not injure him. At least that is what he hoped. With Ziva, you never really knew. He exited the room quickly, what he didn't see, he couldn't report.

"If you make him soil himself, you're the one who has to clean the car." Tony warned before pushing the limping Mikhail to the door.

If only briefly, that left Paulie alone to Ziva's tender mercies. He swallowed hard when he faced the cold fury in her dark eyes.

"I recognize you from our surveillance tapes. So…you like to hurt women?" She asked running a caressing thumb on the hilt of Tony's knife. "And you decided to hurt my friend." She tilted her head consideringly. Paulie understood regret thoroughly for the first time in his life.

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><p>TBC<p>

Thank you for the many kind reviews (and your patience!)


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